


Best of Three

by samchandler1986



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9371747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samchandler1986/pseuds/samchandler1986
Summary: “So, is it always like this?”The girl at the bar sips brightly coloured cocktail through her straw. “Uh-huh.”She doesn’t exactly exude warmth and friendliness, it has to be said, but the rest of the room is empty and Bill needs information. “They just… come here and play darts?”





	

_This is a cursed place. An arena where Immortals came to do battle before the light went out of their Universe. Some frightful celestial alignment would occur, beyond the reckoning of linear calendars, that would draw them to this place to match strength over and again. In their war, there could be no lasting victory. The end of each clash would herald an anguished cry; a vow from the loser to repeat their battle until the stars themselves had burned to dust. From the victor, always the same creed, reproduced here although the meaning is lost to us:_

_“Best of three?”_

* * *

“So, is it always like this?”

The girl at the bar sips brightly coloured cocktail through her straw. “Uh-huh.”

She doesn’t exactly exude warmth and friendliness, it has to be said, but the rest of the room is empty and Bill needs information. “They just… come here and play darts?”

“Yep.” The straw swirls the contents of the glass. “You were expecting something else?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I found a book about this place in the TARDIS library? And it was all _Clash of the Titans_ stuff. This is just… well, they’re just playing darts.”

The girl wrinkles her nose. “Sometimes they bring teams,” she offers. “You know? Gathered from throughout all of time and space.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Last time he bought Isaac Newton and she bought George Eliot.”

“ _Really_?”

“Not as fun as it sounds.” A last sip, draining the cocktail. “No wait, maybe _exactly_ as fun as it sounds.” The girl puts down her glass, finally extending a hand. “I’m Me. I travel with the Doctor.” She gives this statement further consideration. “The short one, I mean.”

“Bill. I’m with the tall one.”

“Nice to meet you Bill. I’m going to go and rally some troops before it gets serious.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Do-do _I_ need to do that?”

“I shouldn’t think so. Help yourself to a drink if you want one.”

With that Me strolls out of the bar, leaving Bill alone to take in the scene. The Doctor, _her_ Doctor, is losing badly. One of his darts is buried in the wall five feet to the left of the board. His opponent bullseyes another triple twenty.

“Well, no, but you see you’ve been _practising_ ,” he whines.

“Ha? Since when was _that_ against the rules? Just because _you_ can’t throw straight without sonic trickery...”

“Oh, oh, _that’s_ rich from you. Remember the business with the Verspotchi wrist augmentation—?”

“Completely different!” huffs the other Doctor. “We were playing Venusian rules and Time Lords are at least _six_ times stronger than humans in this gravity!”

“ _You_ were cheating.”

“I was… evening the odds!”

“That’s kind of the definition of cheating, though,” Bill finds herself saying. Two heads snap round, suddenly aware of her presence. “Hi. I’m Bill.” She gives them an awkward little wave.

“Sorry,” says the short one, with the decency to look chagrined as she comes over to make introductions. Her hand is warm, human under Bill’s palm when they shake. “Clara.”

“I thought you were a Doctor too? Are you guys, like, the same species? Do you have a TARDIS too?”

“Ah,” says Clara, delicately. “Sometimes, no and yes. In that order.” She exchanges a loaded glance with the Professor. “Drink?”   

“Sure. What are you having?”

Doctor Clara purses her lips. “Has he made you a Telurian tea yet?”

“No. Is it good?”

“The _best_.”

* * *

“Left a bit,” says Robin Hood, squinting down her arm. “Very good.”

Bill lets fly the dart, which buries itself in the target.

“Ha _ha_! Game shot!” shouts Robin, high-fiving David Bowie. “Victory is ours, lads!”

“I’m not a lad,” says Bill, but her comment is lost in the cacophony of celebration; Alan-A-Dale having picked up Bowie’s electric guitar.

Einstein, currently captaining the rival team, makes a dismissive motion. “Pah! Best of five! Best of five!” he shouts, over the sound of a Medieval bard let loose on a wah-wah pedal.

“You have lost,” returns Robin, “and you know the forfeit!”

“You better do it, man,” Bowie passes the physicist a horrible glass of mixed cocktail. Albert winces, but takes a sip.  

“Is this _really_ happening?” says Bill, mostly to herself.

“Oh yeah,” replies Me, who has appeared at her elbow again. “This isn’t even _weird_ by their standards. Wait until the Python boys get here… Oh, spoke too soon!”

And Bill is alone once more. As alone as one can be in the middle of a room full of history’s most famous faces, anyway. Maybe that’s it. She’s just beaten Einstein and one of the Bronte sisters at darts, having being coached by Robin Hood and David Bowie; it’s the stuff of hallucinogenic dreams. It doesn’t feel _real_.

She casts about for the Doctor in the increasingly bacchanalian scene, feeling strangely lost without him. “Where’s the Doctor?” she says, to the man wearing a ruff she _suspects_ is probably Shakespeare.

“I think he went outside. You know what he’s like when it comes to the stars...”

 _They certainly are spectacular_ , she thinks, as she walks out into the cold night. A thousand unfamiliar constellations, dimmed only a little by the pale light of twin crescent moons. It’s fairy-tale.

She steps forwards, eyes on the sky, and almost fails to notice the couple kissing fiercely in the penumbra of the TARDIS. Moonlight shines silver in his hair, and her mouth drops open at the sight of the Doctor and his other half.  

 _You live and learn_ , she thinks, turning back inside with a grin. 

 

 


End file.
